June 22, 2012
I’m writing a poem,

called Drinking White Wine That Your Manager Brought You in the Office on a Friday Night From a Paper Coffee Cup On Your Last Day At This Job and Now Begins a Three Day Weekend and You Have Two Brunches With Two of Your Favorite Human Beings Planned and Also There is A Craft Fair (And You’re Going!) and After That You Have a Week of a Normal Schedule at a Job You’re Pretty Excited About, Actually, and Maybe This Whole Twenty-Something Thing is Going to be All Right After All, Even if you’re A Little Terrified Sometimes, or Maybe Especially Because You’re Terrified, and Even if you’re Really Fed Up With the Five Pounds you’ve Gained.

June 12, 2012
The Internet is funny and people are wonderful right now.

Admittedly, I don’t usually drink at home and I’m working on my third jam jar of Moscato-based cocktail, and admittedly I just finished a five mile run so the endorphins are on my side, but gosh.  Today I hurdled an emotional obstacle I’ve been banging my heart’s shins up against for a couple months (when I get tipsy, my heart gains metaphorical limbs, apparently), and I had good talks with both of my parents, and I feel quietly in love with life again.

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